Read Rebel
by Shena1
Summary: Young Rebel Bex contemplates growing up... and escapes to Coney Island to do some thinking... and some reading. [One-Shot] COMPLETE


The warm sand tickled her toes as she sat there, staring out at the sunlight glistening off the water. She wasn't typically adverse to crowds, but this late June afternoon, she just wanted to soak in some solitude.

And Coney Island seemed like an apt choice. It had always been a favourite place to go when she needed...space.

While her fingers toyed unconsciously with the long grass to her right, she turned her head to glance down the beach at her left. A few couples strolled along the water's edge hand in hand, but the immediate area was relatively vacant. Quiet.

Just what she'd hoped for.

Curling her knees up against her chest and closing her eyes, Kate wrapped her arms around her legs, the leather of her jacket cool to the touch against the skin that was exposed through the various rips and tears in her jeans.

Taking in a slow deep breath, she smiled peacefully as the salt and mist off the water wafted around her, the soft breeze causing tendrils of dark brown hair to whip gently across her face.

She needed this.

Especially after today. She was wiped.

A plethora of terms and phrases floated through her head.

Litigation. Class Action. Perjury. Contract. Arraignment. Liability. Prosecute. Subpoena. Misrepresentation. Seizure. Pardon. Appeal. Consideration. Defend. Admissible. Mitigate. Summons. Punitive. Affidavit.

She'd been prepared - having heard quite a few of those terms all her life, as if they were normal dinner conversation topics - but that three-hour A.P. Law exam had been exhausting.

But that was it.

She was finished. Completely done with Stuyvesant High School. Stanford next. Then graduate school. On her way to becoming Supreme Court Chief Justice Katherine Beckett.

Her whole life planned out.

It was exhilarating. Thrilling.

And terrifying.

Because even though she liked order, she also liked a little chaos once in a while. Spontaneity. She wanted fun. She didn't want boring. She didn't want to become her parents. _Ugghh._

And maybe they weren't always thrilled with _all_ of her decisions in the past few years - dating Diesel Grant back in the eleventh grade just because he played the guitar (granted, the wet dog-clove cigarette smell _was_ rather disgusting), skipping Prom to attend a poetry slam, buying her beloved Harley Softail a few months ago - but they always let her recant in her own way, in her own time.

Probably just because her mother loved the satisfaction of telling her '_I told you so_.'

But what parent approves of _everything_ their children do?

At least they approved her choice of career - to follow in their footsteps.

* * *

Lost in her own thoughts, Kate's eyes suddenly flew open at the sound of shrill, amused laughter in the distance. Kids playing on the beach. Happy. Carefree. But she didn't turn to look in their direction. Instead, she stared out across the endless abyss before her.

The view in front of her was hypnotic. Calming. The splashing tide flowing in and out, small waves lapping the sand, foam and seaweed washing up along the shore.

The harmony of rough and calm together. Just like her.

She released as a deep sigh, wondering why the combination was okay for mother nature, but not for her parents.

'_Perils of adolescence,'_ she supposed, toes curling, digging into the sand.

Leaning back against the soft dune behind her, Kate reached into the depths of her backpack. After a brief moment of searching, her fingers found what they were looking for.

A smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she pulled her recent purchase from inside the bag. She'd bought it a few weeks ago, but had forced herself not to indulge until all of her exams were done.

A reward to her herself, so to speak.

Her open palm smoothed lovingly across the glossy yellow and black of the book jacket - the gorgeous and enigmatic images of the clock and skull alighting her sense of intrigue, making her desirous to know the story locked on the pages inside.

Resting the heel of her hand on the flat surface, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing the large white letters of the author's name, she couldn't help but hear her mother's deprecating sigh echo in her ears.

The judgement of yet another part of her personality that her parents didn't quite understand.

Her mother had just shaken her head disappointedly when she'd spotted a worn, paperback copy of _Kissed and Killed _laying on Kate's bedside table last fall. She'd called it "pulp fiction" and "not worthy" of Kate's time, preferring that her daughter pore over her school texts or perhaps indulge in what she deemed to be more intellectually stimulating novels - such as _Great Expectations, Doctor Zhivago, _and_ 1984._

And although she'd agreed to read her mother's choices just to keep the peace, Kate did quite enjoy _Anna Karenina _and _Crime and Punishment_ \- Tolstoy's stories fostering in her an interest in Russian history, culture and language. A fact her mother was thrilled about - even suggesting Kate consider studying abroad at some point in the next few years.

But as much as Kate enjoyed "serious literature" (as her mother called it), the tale of the rookie Bronx detective being hunted by a serial killer had enthralled her. Excited her.

Appealed to her rebellious nature.

So what if it wasn't her mother's idea of "worthy" literature? She liked the writing style. The suspense. The mystery.

Besides, her life would never, ever be as exciting of the lives of the characters in these novels, so what was wrong with a little escapism?

_'And it doesn't hurt that the author is really hot,' _she mused as she flipped the book over in her hands to ogle at the picture of the young man on the back cover - the writer's sexy little grin causing her heart to jump, the desire to tangle her fingers in his soft brown hair so enticing, his blue eyes piercing hers like he knew her deepest, darkest secrets.

And without warning, a sudden, intense sensation washed over her. One she'd never felt before.

It was exhilarating and daunting at the same time - her skin tingling in a way she'd never experienced - so much so that she quickly turned the book over again and took a deep breath, glancing up at the watery skyline, blue melding into blue - the thought of his eyes dancing in her head.

What she wouldn't give for a chance to see those eyes in person...

With the late afternoon sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, Kate cleared her mind of her infatuated imaginings. She'd come to the beach to relax. To escape. It was only 5:30pm. She figured she could get a couple of chapters read before the sun started to set.

Flipping open the front cover, her eyes fell on the dedication. "_For Kyra Blaine. You make the stars shine_."

Wow.

To have Richard Castle dedicate a novel to you.

'_If only,'_ she grinned resignedly, turning the page to chapter one and settling in for the start of what was sure to be an extraordinary ride.

* * *

**xxx**

**Thanks for the help with the Lawyery List, Syzygy.**

**.**

**I have often read fanfic head-canon that has established that Beckett's love of Castle's novels exists only because Johanna loved them first. My head went in a different direction...**

**Judge away. :)**


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